


a promise fulfilled

by gael_itarille



Series: strength and vows [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Caring Thranduil, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Thranduil, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:10:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gael_itarille/pseuds/gael_itarille
Summary: As hours pass, Thranduil reflects on Legolas, and the promise he has vowed to fulfill.





	a promise fulfilled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zAfIrO4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zAfIrO4/gifts).



> A sequel to my fic "standing once more", suggested by zAfIrO4! (Many thanks!) Again, I'm disregarding the cold relationship depicted in "The Hobbit" films- with all-due respect to the cast and crew. As always, flashback scenes are in italics, and this fic is set after the Battle of Helm's Deep in Mirkwood.
> 
> Enjoy! xx

War has again come to the grounds of _Eryn Galen._ Thranduil does not welcome it- war's scarred fingers have plucked too many from the seas, the shores, the skies and the forests of Middle Earth. The bloodstains of battles past remain still, and Thranduil feels old wounds ache anew. His son. His _son_ is gone- wading blindly through treacherous lands that chill the Elvenking to the bone. But, it is neither the experiences of Mordor from ages ago, nor the coming slaughter that is to arrive, but the fate of his son that shakes his stance of confidence and replaces his blood with horror. How he wishes that Legolas' space was filled; for him to be by his side and safe. But he is not. He is out somewhere- whether it be in Mount Doom or Minas Morgul, and Thranduil is alone. There is no son to wish him speed and strength, and there is no son to radiate hope as he always does. His Greenleaf is a breeze of joy that has taken its ebullience and fluttered out of sight and straight into danger.

The orcs are closer now- thundering nearer to the edges of the great forest. Conflict is inevitable- lives shall be lost and blood shall return to the soil of Mirkwood, and Mandos' halls will be reopened. Thranduil wishes not to send his army to war; to bring bloodshed to his kingdom. But for too long a time have they repelled the darkness to have it creep back. The might of his guards and the persistence of his magic cannot delay the advance of Sauron's forces, and the Elvenking fears for his child. Though expansive, the army marching towards his dominion cannot hold a candle to the ones sent to the elf he values most. Legolas has no woodland army- simply his bow and his quiver of arrows that fly true. In spite of the odds stacked against him, Thranduil believes one thing. There shall be no greater warrior than his son- a fierce being that Mirkwood's ruler has raised from elfling to esteemed prince. Thranduil is so, so proud, as both king and father. Hands that once could not grasp even the smallest of daggers now wield two with deadly precision. A spirit that has been born kind and compassionate has remained so. This kingdom has never had such a fair and just ellon, and the older elf still revels in his accomplishment of nurturing such a radiant child. The seas that cross Middle Earth to Valinor could not contain his love and his joy for his son, and Thranduil feels as if his pride could encapsulate all of Arda itself. Then again, so could his dread. 

Mirkwood's regal halls seem staler without its prince, and though the king yearns for his son's company, he is glad Legolas shall not endure the perils of his home and comrades. Monumental pain would assault Greenleaf's heart; a heart that Thranduil has strived to guard for millennia. There is no recompensation that the Elvenking desires -save for Legolas' felicity- for the time and effort he has spent growing his sapling of an elf into a vibrant blossom. Once again, Thranduil thinks this journey of his son's seems immensely wrong. It feels like a debt that his little leaf wants to repay; a debt that was never there in the first place. There is no burden that Thranduil would not alleviate for his elfling, and yet Legolas seems to withhold this quest from him in an effort to lighten his king's load. Every action -whether strenuous or not- has always been for the benefit of his son, and the guardian of the wood needs no jewel nor coin to ward away regret or buy his devotion. Even a smile from the forest's beloved heir would keep at bay the foulest of emotions, and if it allows his son to be jovial, Thranduil has no qualms dedicating himself to the preservation of his little _las-nin._ Surely Legolas knows this- knows that his father is forever present to aid him and solve whatever problem he may have. He _must_ know this. If- _when_ Legolas arrives home, Thranduil will tell his son that he loves him. It has been far too many days since he has said that. 

_"You will return here alive. Is that understood?" The king's tone is insistent, firm, and to those who are knowing, shaky- tinged with the slightest hint of trepidation._

_"Yes, Aran-nin." A silence follows._

_"Ada?"_

_"Hm?" The tone mellows._

_"Thank you."_

Thranduil did not know why Legolas thanked him then. He is unaware even now, but perhaps Legolas notices his father's love more than he imagined. 

More than ever, Mirkwood's ruler yearns to abandon his responsibilities. The mithril circlet on his head long forgotten, he thinks of donning his armour and his twin swords to ride for the Dark Lord's tower- prepared to slay the evil that troubles his little leaf. But, he cannot, and self-loathing swells in the king's chest. He needs to protect Legolas, to defend his soul from the eye that searches for his fellowship and from each source of malice that spreads through the roots of the trees and the winds of Arda- yet his inability to do so seems to usher in the waves of frustration and insecurity that rise like the tide. A powerful ruler he may be, but even at full strength would he fall against Sauron himself. Despite this, the feeling that encompasses him over all else is longing. The guardian of Mirkwood longs to ensure that Legolas is unharmed and that his health is untarnished, for his worry grows with every passing hour and his thoughts become more frantic as the sun descends from her perch. Nevertheless, he knows the prince is alive- tales and lore of the victory of Helm's Deep have already blown through his halls, and Thranduil's relief mingles with his fright to mellow the ever-present weight. Although ephemeral, his _ionneg_ has brought him happiness. There is pride in the stride of the Elvenking, and hope that has flickered has begun to strengthen itself against the sinister gales of Dol Goldur. His faith has not been misplaced- even now, Thranduil believes that his son fights with valour to defend the lives of the free peoples of Middle Earth. For now, Mirkwood's crown prince has fulfilled his promise. Greenleaf's heart beats still- the king can sense it.


End file.
